


The Story of Us

by hihilumin, IamHobbes



Series: Save Your Breath [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, HQSwiftWeek2020, M/M, Pining, medium rare angst ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihilumin/pseuds/hihilumin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamHobbes/pseuds/IamHobbes
Summary: (He’s known distance all his life, but some days he feels like he’s known Kuroo for longer.This is how it is, he thinks; this is how it’ll always be.And then it isn’t.)
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Series: Save Your Breath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921648
Kudos: 20





	The Story of Us

He’s known distance all his life.

Never been too big a fan of people, meddling in his business, standing too close; up until junior high Kenma had so easily shied away from the crowds, from the eyes that all too naturally rest in his direction. He’s not social, by any means, but he isn’t oblivious either, and the stares don’t get easier, no matter how apathetic one claims to be.

Around Kuroo, though, it’s manageable; he’s the first friend he makes (and for a long time, the only one he ever thinks he needs), the first to break through his walls seemingly impenetrable. He doesn’t know when he goes from choosing the furthest table in the room to looking for Kuroo, beside whom there is always an empty seat (his). But all Kenma knows is that this is how it is; likes to think:  _ this is how it always will be _ .

( _ and people would say, we’re the lucky ones _ )

“Kenma.” a hand thrust in the air waves to grab his attention. Kenma peers up from his game, eyes set on the direction of the call and resting upon hair as tangled as ever; he notes, with a familiar fondness, that even at 3 in the afternoon Kuroo will always look like he’d just woken up.

The thing is: Kenma’s features grow more relaxed in Kuroo’s presence, whether other people are aware of it or not. His shoulders, usually hunched up behind his ears, tend to fall; golden eyes typically downcast meet his friend’s almost instinctively. The walls are down, now, and they have been since he was six, and Kuroo had pestered him one too many times to get off his video game console and toss for him.

The thing is: Kenma knows Kuro. And for as long as he knows Kuro, this is how it will always be.   
The other thing is: When Kenma finally weaves through the crowd of people in the café, he realizes Kuroo isn’t alone.

The game in hand is abandoned; he hears the little sad jingle before seeing the ‘game over’ flash across the screen in brilliantly devastating red.

“Hi, Kenma.” Sawamura Daichi is the image of cordiality; when Kuroo stands to greet Kenma, he stands alongside him, smiling all the while. 

Still, there’s a slight discomfort in the feeling of two pairs of eyes watching him now, rather than the familiar one. His shoulders rise, if only subtly, gaze glued back to his game. It says  _ Start over? _ “Oh ... hi, Daichi-san.”

“I hope you don’t mind Sawamura tagging along.” If Kuroo is on edge, he doesn’t show it; the grin adorning his face is relaxed as ever. Kenma’s eyebrows furrow at the way the name sounds in Kuroo’s mouth. “I would’ve told you earlier, but …”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” The pinnacle of courtesy’s lips fall in a slight frown; Kuroo stiffens under Daichi’s disapproval. Kenma spares a quick glance, and it only takes a split second for him to decide he has to keep the ball rolling –– blood flowing, body working. Or something. Whatever it is Kuroo says.

“It’s fine.” he reassures them, monotone; the older boys turn to him with a start, and Kenma realizes this is the first thing that’s left his mouth since  _ hi _ . Trying desperately not to cling to the discomfort he feels, he takes a seat.

Oh; not the one directly beside Kuroo. That one’s occupied now.

The tension dissipates, but not fully. Kuroo ignores the part that lingers. “How’s the channel?” he asks, mouth curling in a smile far from unkind, but far from energetic, too. Kenma tries to relax. The fingers on his Nintendo Switch continue to fidget.

“It’s fine.” he says again. Kuroo’s eyebrows raise –– a wordless prodding –– and he sighs, tucking the console back inside his backpack before finally meeting Kuroo’s intense stare. “I hit a new milestone two days ago.”

Kuroo’s face immediately brightens; “Ohoho?” Kenma’s heart warms, though he’d never think to say that aloud. He deadpans “You need to stop talking like Bokuto-san.” instead.

“Look at you go.” the taller boy muses, as if he hadn’t been interrupted; he leans in forward, the grin on his face only theirs to share. 

Kenma tries not to directly fluster under it, as well as Kuroo’s proud gaze, but it’s betrayed quickly by the pink that warms his cheeks. He breaks eye contact. 

( _ i’d tell you i miss you, but i don’t know how _ )

“It’s not a big deal.” he mumbles. “Lots of people get to twice as many subscribers quicker.”

“ _ Kenma _ .” a lanky arm wraps around his chair, Kuroo using the same tone of voice that would only arise before Nekoma’s volleyball matches. “C’mon, don’t sell yourself short; it’s  _ totally _ a big deal.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is t––”

“That’s great to hear, Kenma.”

Hm. Maybe it’s just him, but Daichi’s voice is a little too hearty for his liking. Their gazes meet, and Kenma stiffens again under the weight of dissection hidden behind a placid smile. 

“... thanks.”

Something (guilt? disquiet?) flashes against Kuroo’s features for all of a second; a beat passes before he leans back, withdrawing his arm from ‘round Kenma’s smaller frame. “See? Told you.” his voice is smug, but Kenma can see the confidence waver.

( _ why are we pretending this is nothing? _ )

––––

“How are things.”

Kuroo’s heavy lidded gaze rests on him, he can tell, though for reasons he can’t quite place it’s slightly more unnerving than usual. Kenma sneaks a glance at the tired circles under his eyes; the way his best friend, standing at 6 foot something (like he’s ever let him forget it) now manages to look so incredibly small. 

Something in him tells him he doesn’t actually need a response to that question anymore.

Still, Kuroo clears his throat, snapping out of whatever daze he’s been put under, and Kenma wills himself to look up once more from the school book he’s brought as a (distraction? prop?) reason for him to  _ actually _ study. The coffee mug nestled between his hands produces a screen of smoke ( _ ha, ha _ ) between them.

“Things?” Kuroo answers finally. There’s an attempt at the same wry smile he’s always carried, but Kenma frowns; he’s never had to make the effort. “Hmm … you’ll have to be a little more specific with what you mean by that.”

Kenma furrows his brows. He likes most games; just not this one.

( _ so many things that i wish i knew _ )

> (“Hey, Kenma …” Kenma peers up from his game and frowns; even without the choppy signal, Hinata’s never sounded this tentative. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for the boy on the other end of the call to continue. 
> 
> “Have you spoken to Kuroo-san recently?”
> 
> It’s random enough to warrant an immediate response from him. “Kuro? Why?” Something like alarm bells go off in his head. “Did Daichi-san say something––”
> 
> Hinata is shaking his head far too vigorously. “No, no!” Kenma admits he’s become a better volleyball player, but the lying needs work. “Nothing like that at all. Uh. I just––”
> 
> “Then why ask so suddenly.”
> 
> Hinata’s mouth opens and shuts about three times total in the span of ten seconds, under any other circumstance, Kenma may have found it half amusing, except now he’s hanging on every word (and lack thereof).
> 
> “I just–– I think you should check on him! And––! And I’m not saying this because I think I know Kuroo-san more than you do, but–– ah …”
> 
> Kenma frowns. He’s used to the other’s limited vocabulary, but Hinata seems to  _ deliberately _ be hiding something from him.
> 
> He doesn’t like it.    
>  The fact that it’s something about Kuroo makes it all the more unpleasant.
> 
> “Thank you, Shoyo.” he responds, voice devoid of emotion –– years of practice make it easy, even when his mind is restless with thought. “I’ll see him soon.”)

“ _ Things _ .” Kenma repeats, trying not to let his lack of patience show. “You and …” the name curls and folds and stretches around his tongue, unfamiliar (wrong?). “Daichi.”

He tries not to take  _ too _ much notice of the way Kuroo’s eyes flicker away from the table at the mention of Karasuno’s former captain’s name.

(He also knows  _ your boyfriend _ is the more apt title at this point, but for some reason the mental admission of that is something he still can’t wrap his head around.) 

It’s not like Daichi hadn’t been brought up in conversations before; most (all?) of the time, even, it’s Kuroo volunteering new relationship developments that Kenma’s never asked for –– his starting to see him, their moving in together. 

(Not that he isn’t happy for Kuro’s happy, obviously ( _ obviously? _ ). 

But Kenma feels like  _ maybe _ , between the distance and the workload that university’s inflicted upon both of them, the satisfaction of  _ hearing _ about these things lies more in the fact that Kuroo still seeks him out, wants Kenma to be the first person to know anything and everything about him, rather than in the content itself.)

Another silence. Kenma likes silences, generally, and with Kuroo they’re never uncomfortable –– until now.

( _ i’ve never heard silence quite this loud _ )

“Kuro?” he peers up at him, eyebrows raised.  _ I’m worried about you _ , he wants to say.  _ You’re tired and distracted and not you, not the you I know, and I miss you –– miss us _ .

But he doesn’t get to say any of that before Kuroo’s “Kenma we’re  _ fine _ .” falls from his lips like the crack of a whip, stunning him quiet. Kenma’s eyes widen slightly, and he tries to school his expression back to neutrality as quickly as he can.

But Kuroo’s reflexes are sharper, faster, and Kenma can only manage thinned lips when his best friend’s face falls in uncomfortable guilt.

“Sorry.” he mutters. Sighs. “We’re. We’re fine, okay? Things are fine.”

Kenma doesn’t respond much, after that.

( _ but you held your pride like you should’ve held me _ )

(He’s known distance all his life, but some days he feels like he’s known Kuroo for longer.

This is how it is, he thinks; this is how it’ll always be.

And then it isn’t.)

( _ and the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now _ )


End file.
